Ask CanaDERP!
by MapleSyrup CanaDERP
Summary: CanaDERP is a little drunk on maple syrup at the moment, so now's the perfect time to ask him some...interesting questions! He'll answer honestly, and...interestingly. Because he's CA-NA-DERRRRRP!
1. Chapter 1: An Introduction

**Ask CanaDERP!**

You walk into a public restroom to find a young blond man sitting on the counter, his back against the mirror and his eyes focused on you. You stop in your tracks, then back up a step, startled. "Um…h-hello," you say cautiously.

The man stares at you a moment longer before grinning suddenly and handing you a business card. "I AM CANADA!" he announces, leaping down from the counter and bounding out the door, half-empty bottle of maple syrup in hand.

You blink before turning your attention to the small, caramel-colored card in your hand.

_Ask me anything!_ it says. You flip it over and see _I know you want to!_ on the back. Below that is an email address.

You shrug and tuck the card into your pocket, turning toward the sink to wash your hands.

Maybe you'll email this Canada guy later.

* * *

A/N: Hello, and welcome to Ask CanaDERP! CanaDERP is essentially Hetalia's own lovable Canada—but always drunk on maple syrup. You can ask him any question—any question at all!

_Hey, CanaDERP, what's your favorite brand of maple syrup?_

_Dear CanaDERP, I am in love with you. How do you feel about me?_

_Yo, CanaDERP! What color undies you wearin' today?_

He'll answer anything—you just have to ask! :D Simply send me a PM or leave a review, and let me know whether you'd like to be known by your pen name or something else. Otherwise I'll just call you Anon. :D

This is purely for enjoyment, so be as serious or as silly as you want! :D

CanaDERP: AND BATHE WITH ME IN MAPLE SYRUP!

Author: T^T Now, now, CanaDERP. Save that for the anons on Omegle.


	2. Chapter 2: Hair Curls

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** *clears throat* Well, CanaDERP, it seems that you've received your first question!

**CanaDERP:** HERP DERP THAT'S SOOOOOO COOOOOL~!

**Author:** CanaDERP, please stop trying to eat my hand. I need that. Anyway, our first letter comes from someone by the name of Ai. Ai says:

"_To author: I love you. *touches your face* We made babies now. I am happy. c:_

_My name is Ai. *waves*"_

**Author**: *suddenly holding thirteen newborn babies* WHAT THE F*** JUST HAPPENED? CANADERP, YOUR FANS HAVE SOMEHOW IMPREGNATED ME!

**CanaDERP:** I LOVE BAAAAAABIEEEEEES. *takes one and places it atop his head*

**Author:** A-anyway…the letter continues,

"_Question: What happens if I tug on your curl? What if I pull it out?_"

Care to answer this, CanaDERP?

**CanaDERP: ***screams suddenly, clutching at his precious curl* NO NO NO NO NO! MY HAIR CURL IS MY LIFEFORCE!

* * *

The bar is nearly empty, you see, as you enter the dark room. There is only one other customer, a tall blond man sitting at the counter, hunched over his drink. You approach him, sit beside him. He turns to you and grins, and you immediately recognize him.

"You…you're Canada, aren't you?" You've found the strange man from the other day, the one who had been sitting nearly _in_ one of the sinks in a public restroom.

"INDEED I AM!" he shouts, nodding vigorously. Your eyes focus on a strand of hair that has somehow separated itself from the others, curling cutely off to the side. On instinct, you reach out and grasp it, pulling just a little.

Canada freezes suddenly, his gaze hardening. "You shouldn't have done that," he says in a threatening tone.

Shocked, you move to release it—but instead, you _yank it out of his scalp_.

You sit there, clutching the single curl of hair, watching as the man's expression begins to flicker between anger, hurt, and…something else.

Something you've never seen before.

Something frightening.

Canada stands and grasps your shoulders firmly, his lips twitching, and you see that his eyes are bloodshot.

"You—you—YOU TOOK MY CURL."

"I—I—I'm so sorry!" you exclaim, honestly fearing for your safety.

Suddenly, you find yourself being tossed over the man's shoulder, and the two of you are racing out of the bar. What's going on? Where is he taking you?

"HERP DERP THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT," says the man, and you find yourself flying through the air—

-and you land in a tub full of maple syrup.

A moment later, and Canada is there, too, flailing about aimlessly in the sweet stuff.

"MAPLE SYRUP MAKES YOUR HAIR GROW FASTER, YOU *hic* KNOW!" And Canada dunks your head under the sticky surface.

* * *

**Author:** *blinks* So, CanaDERP, you're saying that is someone were to pull out your curl, you would…bathe with them in maple syrup.

**CanaDERP:** *tossing baby into air* YERP. CAUSE MAPLE SYRRRRRUP IS GOOD FOR HAAAAAIIIIIR GROWTH.

**Author:** IS THAT YOUR ANSWER FOR EVERYTHING, YOU MORON? Well, there you have it, Ai. If you were to pull out CanaDERP's hair curl, you would be forced to bathe with him in maple syrup. I suggest you NOT try it…*hands Ai six babies* And please, take your half of the children you have somehow impregnated me with.

**CanaDERP:** MAKE MORE BABIEEEEEES. THEY ARE FUUUUUUN. *licks child*


	3. Chapter 3: Deepest Secrets

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** Look, CanaDERP! You've received quite a few questions today!

**CanaDERP:** *prances happily about room*

**Author:** Now, now, CanaDERP. Sit down. Let's see…this question comes from Anna Whitlinger, who says,

"_Oh my, Drunk!Canada is adorable. _

_Question: What is your deepest secret?"_

**CanaDERP:** *excitedly glomps laptop* ANNA IS ADORABLE TOO! HER SKIN IS SO SMOOTH AND SHINY AND HER EYES LIGHT UP REALLY BRIGHT AND—

**Author:** CanaDERP. That is a computer. Not Anna.

**CanaDERP:** DON'T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT ABOUT MY FRIENDS!

**Author:** *sighs* Yes. Well, at any rate, would you care to answer her question? What is your deepest secret?

**CanaDERP:** I HAVE LOTS OF *hic* SECREEEETS~!

* * *

You stare across at the man sitting in the tub of maple syrup with you. "You're incredibly drunk, aren't you?"

Canada grins at you and stands, starting to take off his syrup-coated clothes.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" you say, bringing your hands up to cover your eyes. "No stripping! Stripping is bad!" (But you peek through your fingers anyway)

"HURR HURR. YOU'RE JUST SCARED TO SEE MY *hic* DEEPEST SEEEEEECREEEEET." He continues removing his clothing, tossing his sticky shirt onto the floor.

You have absolutely no idea what he's talking about, but you suddenly wish that you'd never taken that business card of his. As he moved to take off his syrupy jeans, you stand up. "No, no, no, no, no! I am _out_ of here!" You hurriedly take a step out of the tub, only to slip and land sprawled on the floor. A pair of pants lands on your back.

"LOOK, LOOK, MY SWIM TRUNKS ARE DELICIOUS NOW!" Behind you, Canada laughs gleefully, looking down at his maple-leaf print swim shorts. You breathe a sigh of relief and turn back to him…only to see that he has turned his back to you, and that his Canadian shorts are a little…too…_big_ for him.

As they slip down his waist, you turn away quickly, covering your eyes again.

But you still see it.

"Canada…?" you ask, face flushed. "Why do you have a tattoo of an American flag on your butt…?"

* * *

**Author:** *snickering* You seriously have an American flag tattooed on your…er, rear?

**CanaDERP:** YEAH! ME AND IGGY GOT REAL DRUNK ONE NIGHT AND WE DECIDED TO *hic* GET TATTOOOOOS. *stands* WANNA SEEEEE….?

**Author:** No thanks. But, why an American flag? And…why Iggy?

**CanaDERP:** BECAUSE AMERICA IS UNDER ME, SO, LIKE, WHEN I SIT DOWN. IT'S UNDER ME. GET IT? *starts giggling maniacally* AND IGGY HAS A GUITAR ON HIS *hic* BUTT. HURRRP.

**Author**: *shudders* Yes…um, thank you for your question, Anna…and thank you for the _mental images_, CanaDERP.

**CanaDERP:** *eats swim trunks*


	4. Chapter 4: CanaDERP on Drunkenness

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author**: Look at this, CanaDERP! You've got a question from your brother, America!

**CanaDERP**: *screams and hides in closet*

**Author:** …He doesn't know about the tattoo, does he?

**CanaDERP**: *reappears with bra on head* NERP.

**Author**: *sighs* Well, he does now. I'm sure he read that last chapter, so come on out and answer his question.

**CanaDERP**: *sits on Author* MMMMMMMMKAY.

**Author**: Oh, well, um…a-anyway, Alfred writes:

"_Well, hi Matt! Your awesome Bro here... Tell me this... Why in the _[censored] _heavens are you all acting like this. Yeah you're drunk, but you don't get drunk_!"

You should really tell your brother to cut down on the swearing.

**CanaDERP**: *giggles obscenely* WHAT DO YOU MEAN I *hic* DON'T GET DRUNK? REMEMBER YOUR LAST CHRISTMAS PARTY?

* * *

Alfred F. Jones threw the best darned Christmas party in the world, and he knew it. The overly-decorated trees, the neon cakes, the oodles of presents—it was everything that Christmas was about! And the beer, most everyone agreed, was the absolute best part.

You're not sure how you scored a ticket to this shindig, but somehow here you are, surrounded by nations and people of prominence. You feel a bit overwhelmed, so you decide to take a short rest beneath the enormous Christmas tree in the center of the hall, and watch the festivities from there.

You sip your cocoa as you see three young men head over toward the bar. Two look like they could be twins—approximately the same height, with matching blond hair, and the third is a silver-haired man with bright red eyes. You watch them curiously.

Once at the bar, the three order their drinks: a Bud Light, a Kölsch beer, and a…glass of maple syrup.

It doesn't take long before they're all a bit tipsy. _How on Earth can someone get_ tipsy_ from _maple syrup_?_

The three of them climb up on top of the counter and begin to sing Silent Night—_very_ off-key. They're loud enough that many of the party-goers turn to watch them, falling silent.

One of the blond men—the one with the ridiculous curl of hair—suddenly grabs up a whole pitcher full of syrup and begins to pour it over himself and the silver-haired man beside him.

"_Round yon _Virgin_ Mother and Chiiiiiild_

_Holy Innnnnnfant so tender and miiiiiiild!"_

And now they are all wearing various objects—the slightly taller blond man has a lampshade on his head, while the other two (the syrup-covered ones) wear a Christmas wreath and a tablecloth-toga, respectively.

You shake your head and sip your cocoa. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**CanaDERP:** THAT'S NOT THE MOST DRUNK I'VE EVER BEEN, EITHER!

**Author:** CanaDERP, you're always drunk.

**CanaDERP:** YEAH, BUT THIS ONE *hic* TIME, GERMANY AND PRUSSIA INVITED ME OVER TO THEIR HOUSE FOR A PARTY!

**Author:** …And?

**CanaDERP:** THEY TOLD ME TO BRING MY PARTY PANTS, AND WHEN I GOT THERE, THERE WAS *hic* BEER AND GLITTER _EVERYWHERE_, AND GERMANY WAS—

**Author:** *cutting him off* Okay, CanaDERP, thank you very much for answering your brother's question…by the way, Alfred, how drunk _were_ you at that party?

**CanaDERP:** *hides in closet*

**Author:** O_O


	5. Chapter 5: Becoming One

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author**: Here's the last question for this morning, CanaDERP. This one is from someone who goes by the name of Dark Glass.

**CanaDERP:** *chomps on brownie* THIS BROWNIE IS STAAAAALE.

**Author:** CanaDERP, that's a hockey puck.

**CanaDERP:** *glances at it* OH. THAT EXPLAINS IT. *continues gnawing on it*

**Author:** *sighs dramatically* Why didn't I listen to Mother? I could have been working at the New York Times! But noooooo, I just _had_ to start up this little column with _this_ idiot. Well, what's done is done. Okay, Dark Glass asks three questions!

"_Mr. Canada._

_1) What took you so long with Neverwinter Nights!_

_2) Exactly how drunk and/or in a bad position would you have to be to consider becoming one with America?_

_3) Or Russia, yes?_

_With all due respect,_

_Dark Glass"_

Care to answer, CanaDERP?

**CanaDERP:** *choking on hockey puck* HURRRRRRRRM!

**Author:** *sighs* Well, since CanaDERP is having a bit of a…problem at the moment, I suppose I'll have to answer the first question for him.

Canada has never played Neverwinter Nights. He leaves the video games to his brother, since he prefers to beat opposing teams over the head with his hockey stick…Usually after Russia slips him some vodka, but I think it'd be best to save _that_ story for another time, right, CanaDERP?

**CanaDERP:** HRRRRMPHRUMPH! *hawks up puck*

**Author**: Oh, good, you're not dying anymore. *rolls eyes* So you can answer the other two questions, right?

**CanaDERP:** I WOULD NEVER BECOME ONE WITH MY BROTHER! HE'S A *hic* JERK FACE WHO CAN'T EVEN MAKE A DECENT PANCAKE!

**Author:** Well, it's true that they're a little greasy, but…come on now, is that any reason to not become one with America?

**CanaDERP:** HE'S MY BROTHER! I'D NEVER BECOME ONE WITH HIM! THAT'S INCEST!

Author: You're actually sounding fairly sober at the moment, CanaDERP. But if you were _reeeeally_ drunk, would you?

**CanaDERP:** *glares at Author* No. I would not. I have better standards than that.

**Author:** *surprised* U-um, okay. Sorry I asked…*clears throat* Well then, what about Russia? Would you consider becoming one with him?

**CanaDERP:** *grins*

**Author:** No. No no no no no no no. Do NOT tell the story, CanaDERP. Do NOT tell it.

* * *

Russia smiles cheerfully, swinging his iron pipe from side to side as he heads to Canada's house. He hasn't seen Canada in a few decades, so it's probably about time for a visit. He carries in his hand a few bottles of vodka as a gift for the younger nation.

He taps lightly at the door. "Canadia?" he calls, peering in the window. "You are here, da? It's me, Russia!"

You open the door and usher the man in. "Mr. Canada will be in shortly. Please have a seat." As the pale-haired man does so, you shudder a bit before going after Canada. You find him in his room, cuddling his pet polar bear, Kumajiro. "Mr. Canada, you have a guest."

Canada glances up at you with a smile. "Oh, really?" he asks softly. "Who is it? It's not my brother, is it?"

You shake your head. "No, not Mr. America. It's…it's Mr. Russia, sir." You shiver again, and Canada's eyes widen.

"What could he want?" he mutters, setting the polar bear on his bed and standing. "I hope he's not here to 'become one' with me."

You lead Canada back out to the living room, where Russia sits, polishing his iron pipe. He looks up. "Ah, Canadia! It is so nice to see you, da?"

"Y-yes. How have you been lately, Russia?"

'Fine, fine. Look, I brought you a gift!" Russia holds out a bottle of vodka, which Canada reluctantly takes. "It is vodka, from my private stores! Is very good, da?" He takes a sip from his own bottle with a smile.

Canada, always polite, opens the bottle and sips it. "Y-yes. It's very good."

You stare in horror at the scene in the living room. The couch has been turned upside down, and the coffee table and armchairs have been stacked to make a fort of some kind. Canada is stumbling across the room, "chasing" after Russia with his hockey stick, while Russia giggles and hides behind a pile of books, DVDs, and electronics.

Canada trips over nothing and falls across the pile, landing atop Russia with a shriek. Russia laughs, the sound slurred, "You are funny, Canadia," he mumbles. "Let's become one, da?"

Canada paused, then said, "OKAY SURE RUSSIA! CANADERP WILL BECOME ONE WITH YOU~!"

You dash out of the room, covering your eyes.

* * *

**Author:** *pale-faced* Wait. So you actually _became one_ with Russia? Didn't your brother kill you?

**CanaDERP:** NERP! BUT IT WASN'T *hic* MY FAULT, ANYWHOOOOOOO. 'CAUSE IT WAS THE VODKAAAA.

**Author:** …CanaDERP, you frighten me.

**CanaDERP: **BUT I'M NOT ONE WITH HIM ANYMORE BECAUSE WHEN I WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING I TOOK HIS PIPE AND—

**Author:** OH! Look at the time! It seems we're finished for now! Why don't you finish your brownie? *shoves puck in CanaDERP's mouth* I hope CanaDERP was able to answer your questions, Dark Glass! Oh, this reminds me. CanaDERP has a Tumblr! We were thinking of posting these asks on both sites, so please let us know what you think of this. If we do, you can always opt out, of course: simply state in your letter that you don't wish your question to be posted there. Thank you for all your questions so far, everyone!

**CanaDERP**: -SO NOW HE CAN'T *hic* BOTHER ME ANYMORE WITH THAT AND—

**Author**: GOODBYE, CANADERP.


	6. Chapter 6: Where Babies Come From

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** Oh, CanaDERP—

**CanaDERP:** Our home and native land!

True patriot love in all thy sons command.

**Author:** No, CanaDERP! Don't sing the song!

**CanaDERP:** With glowing hearts we see thee rise,

The True North strong and free!

From far and wide,

O CanaDERP, we stand on guard for thee.

**Author:** CANADERP! AT LEAST SING IT CORRECTLY!

**CanaDERP:** God keep our land glorious and free!

O CanaDERP, we stand on guard for thee.

O CanaDERP, we stand on guard for thee.

**Author**: …Are you done now?

**CanaDERP**: YERP.

**Author:** Good. Now, we've received a letter from one of your nieces!

**CanaDERP:** *squeals* WHICH ONE? MY NIECES ARE ALL SO ADORABLE AND-

**Author**: This letter is from Maryland.

**CanaDERP:** OH, *hic* MARYLAND~! HOW ARE YOU DOING, SWEETHEEEEEAAAART?

**Author**: Hush now, CanaDERP. Maryland writes:

"_Hello Uncle CanaDERP..._

_Um...Im not shure how or why I'm asking you this...but...Where do babies come from? Dad would tell me so...Yeah...See you later ..._

_Sincerely,_

_Anna T. Jones / The state of Maryland_

_P.s. : ...Get a room.."_

*silence fills the room*

**Author:** *coughs* Um…so, care to answer, CanaDERP?

**CanaDERP**: NO, ANNA, NO! BABIES COME FROM STORKS! THEY COME FROM STORRRRRKSSSSS!

**Author**: CanaDERP, she's 224 years old. I think you can tell her where babies come from. Besides, don't baby nations arrive differently from human children?

**CanaDERP**: …Okay…BUT I'M NOT ANSWERING IT LIKE *hic* I HAVE BEEN! THAT WOULD BE TOO AWKWARD, AND AMERICA WOULD KILL ME!

* * *

A very young Canada approaches his papa, smiling happily. "Papa, may I ask a question?" he asks, his angelic eyes gazing into France's hopefully.

"Oh, _mon petit_ Canada, of course you can!" He gently lifts the young nation into his arms and nuzzles him. "Ask away, _mon cher!_"

"Where do babies come from?"

France freezes and gazes down at the tiny nation. "Wh-wh-why would you want to know something like that, Mathieu?"

"I was just wondering. So, where do they come from?"

"Um. Um. Um. W-well, when a man and a woman love each other a whole lot, they-have-intercourse-and-nine-months-later a baby magically appears!" France says it rather quickly—normally he would have no problems talking about making babies (or even attempting to make babies), but Canada was still too young for such things.

"Oh, okay. What's intercourse?"

"OH LOOK OVER THERE, _MON ENFANT!_" France points at nothing, and, once Canada is distracted, he dashes off into the forest. England will have to tell the child everything else.

"England? Where do nations come from?" Canada sits in his father's lap, staring up at him. "I tried to ask Papa France, but he just said something about intercourse and then left."

England froze. The frog has been telling little Canada about _sex_? Sex didn't even have anything to do with the birth of nations, that git! He clears his throat. "Don't ask France about that ever again, alright?" At Canada's sheepish nod, he continues, "Nations come to be in a variety of ways. The oldest nations began at the same moment that time began, and no one knows where exactly they came from.

"Sometimes nations are born upon the discovery of new land. You and your brother came to be in this way.

"And then some nations are created, using willpower. A country may wish to separate, for example, and so will split off a part of himself, which then becomes a new nation. Sometimes, another country may cut off a part of another. It's all very complicated, you see."

Glancing down, England sees that Canada has fallen asleep. He smiles and lays the young nation on the grass, beside his brother.

France suddenly leaps out of a bush and tackles England. "Angleterre!" he exclaims. "Let us attempt to create life, _ma chérie!_"

France was found several days later, hanging upside down in a tree. He wasn't very happy.

* * *

**Author: **That was actually a rather sweet story, CanaDERP…except for the ending.

**CanaDERP:** WELL, ANNA, DID I ANSWER YOUR QUESTION? PEOPLE-BABIES *hic* COME FROM INTERCOURSE, AND NATION-BABIES COME FROM DIRT AND BODY PARTS. YAY.

**Author:** …and?

**CanaDERP:** AND DON'T TELL YOUR DAD I TOLD YOU! OR ASK FRANCE ABOUT INTERCOURSE! *hic*

**Author:** O_O Well, this session was actually fairly serious…and awkward. Um. I have a question for you, CanaDERP…can a nation father a human child?

**CanaDERP:** *grins* I DUNNO! WANNA TRY? *grabs Author and runs down hallway with her*

**Author**: No. NO. NO! NO! NO! *clobbers CanaDERP with laptop and escapes out window*


	7. Chapter 7: In Which PruCan Occurs

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** *pokes CanaDERP* Hey, CanaDERP, I know it's 11 PM, but you need to get up. I just checked our email, and you've got an…interesting…question…

**CanaDERP:** *shoots up out of bed* YAY YAY YAY QUESTION I LOOOOOVE QUESTIONS~!

**Author:** CanaDERP you're going to break the bed.

**CanaDERP:** *giggles*

**Author:** *rolls eyes* Get your mind of the gutter. Anyway, this letter comes from someone known as BloodSuckingFerret! They ask:

"_Dear CanaDERP, _

_Two things:_

_1. Fanservice request: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE KISS PRUSSIA PLEEEEEEEASE?_

_2. What's the weirdest thing you've ever done (the tattoo doesn't count._

_Neither does becoming one with Russia.) _

_Oh, and if you choose not to kiss Prussia, can you at least do the following:_

_dress up in a bikini and dance to "Single Ladies" (you get pancakes if you can_

_guess where that reference came from. Hint: it involves twitter, a bet, a star_

_of Twilight, and a friend of the previously mentioned star) _

_Okay, BYE!_

_P.S. ...you can do BOTH if you want. Kiss Prussia and do the bikini thing. No_

_one's stopping you..."_

**Author:** *pauses, then laughs* OH YES. Hahaha, CanDERP, what're you gonna do now?

**CanaDERP:** *runs out of house, arms flailing along behind him*

**Author:** *pales* Oh, no. He's _not_. He is _not_ going to do it. Oh, holy crap, he _is!_ Oh, gosh, video camera video camera video camera where are you this is my OTP oh gosh-!

**CanaDERP:** *comes back in, pulling a sleepy-looking Prussia behind him* ME AND GIL ARE GONNA KISSSSS NOW~!

**Prussia:** Oh, is that why you dragged _mein_ awesomeness in here? Kesesese~!

**CanaDERP**: *looks to Author, who is pointing video camera in their direction* I'M *hic* GOIN' FER TOTALLLLL FAN SERRRRVICE HERRRRRE.

**Author:** DO IT. DO IT NOW.

**CanaDERP:** *smoldering eyes* Gil, I…I don't rightly know how to say this, but I…I love you!

**Prussia:** *smirks* Of course you do, Canada! Everyone loves the awesome me, kesesese~! But you know what? _Ich liebe dich, auch_, my little Birdie.

**CanaDERP**: *pulls Prussia in for a deep, meaningful kiss*

**Author:** *squeals and zooms in*

**Prussia:** *pulls away after a minute* Oh, Mattie~!

**CanaDERP:** Oh, Gil~! *embraces Prussia*

**Prussia:** *straightens* Well, now that that's done with, I'm going back home to sleep. Tomorrow afternoon, right, Mattie?

**CanaDERP:** MAPLE BEER TIME~!

**Author**: *turns off video camera*Ahh…now that that's done with, how about answering BloodSuckingFerret's actual question? What's the strangest thing you've ever done?

**CanaDERP**: *starts rummaging through Author's drawers* I'VE DONE LOTS OF *hic* WEIRD THINGS!

* * *

You're standing on the side of a busy street, waiting for a friend to come pick you up. It's a warm day, especially for early spring in Vancouver, and you shrug your jacket off, draping it over one arm. You notice that there don't seem to be too many people out on the sidewalks today. _Such a shame_, you think. _It's so nice out today!_

Glancing up, you notice that there is at least one other person out today. Across the street, you see a tall blond man, who is staring at you intently from across the street. You flush and look away, hoping your friend arrives soon.

But you can't keep your gaze from him for long, and you turn back to him—only to realize that he is _stripping in the middle of the sidewalk._ And not simply shrugging out of his coat, as you had done—no, this man is already down to his _boxers_, which, you note with embarrassment, are printed with little red maple leaves. You try to look away again, but he waves to you, and you find your gaze riveted on this…strange…man.

Music begins to blast out of the speakers on the street, and you can easily distinguish the song "I'm Sexy and I Know It from LMAFO. _Oh, good God, he isn't_—

But he _is_.

As you watch, he begins to dance to the song, singing along _very off-key_ and strutting his stuff in the street.

"Ah... Girl look at that body. Ah... Girl look at that body. Ah... Girl look at that body.

Ah... I work out!

Ah... Girl look at that body. Ah... Girl look at that body. Ah... Girl look at that body.

Ah... I work out!"

And then, as you watch, unable to pull your eyes away, the strange man begins to dance out into the middle of the busy street, neatly side-stepping cars as he sexily dances ever closer to you, thrusting his hips and winking at you. You start to back up, slightly frightened, when you hear the sound of familiar engine.

A bright red Ferrari screeches to a stop in front of you—and sends the man flying off from the impact. The blond man lands, somehow, in a strategically-placed basin full of maple syrup, in which he leans back, winks at you again, and calls out, "YOUK NOW I LOOK DAMN SEXY IN MY MAPLE PANTIES!"

* * *

**Author:** Are you serious now, CanaDERP? The strangest thing you've ever done is dance to "I'm Sexy and I Know It" in the middle of a street and get hit by Italy's car. Really.

**CanaDERP**: *from inside closet* WELL, UNLESS YOU COUNT THE *hic* TIME THAT I TRANSFORMED INTO ENGLAND WHILE FRANCE AND I WERE *hic* IN THE BATH AND—

**Author:** Oh, shut up, CanaDERP. What are you doing in my closet, anyway? You've been in there the whole time—get your arse out here!

**CanaDERP**: JUST A MINNNNNUTE!

*suddenly, bright lights start flashing in Author's room, and music begins to play*

"All the single ladies, all the single ladies

All the single ladies, all the single ladies"

*The closet door slams open to reveal a scantily-clad CanaDERP, dressed only in one of Author's itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka-dot bikinis*

**CanaDERP:** *begins to dance, shaking his hips and chest* ALL THE SIIIINGLE LADIEEEES, ALLLLL THE SINGLE LADIEEEEES~!

**Author:** *covers eyes* No. No, no, no, no, no, no, NO. BloodSuckingFerret said you only had to do ONE!

**CanaDERP:** A TRUE *hic* GENTLEMAN NEVVVVER DISSSAPPOINTS HIS FANNNNS~!

**Author:** *chucks a dictionary at CanaDERP and knocks him out* …That was truly disturbing. 0_o


	8. Chapter 8: Epic Rap Battle

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**CanaDERP:** ANOTHER LETTER YAY~! *dances around room in umbrella hat*

**Author:** CanaDERP, I swear you're getting more childish every time we do this thing. You're not drunk, you're just insane, aren't you?

**CanaDERP:** HURRRRR.

**Author:** *sighs* Okay, it looks like we've got another letter from BloodSuckingFerret! *nudges CanaDERP* Someone's got a fangirl~!

**CanaDERP:** *climbs in Author's lap and derps happily*

**Author:** o_e *pushes CanaDERP off lap and reads letter*

"_I just have a dare this time. _

_I was originally going to ask you to let the Bad Touch Trio_

_pick out an outfit for you to do The Macarena in, but I thought of something_

_better. (besides, I think the author is mentally scarred enough. Sorry about_

_that, btw.) so anyway, my dare is..._

_RAP BATTLE BETWEEN AMERICA AND CANADA!?"_

**Author:** First of all, THANK YOU. My eyes only stopped bleeding a few hours ago, you see. I'm afraid that if the BTT came over to dress CanaDERP, I would be forced to set up camp in my closet with earplugs and a blindfold…just in case.

**CanaDERP: **HURR HURR. SEVEN MINUTES IN HEEEEEAAAVEN~!

**Author:** CanaDERP. No. *dials phone* Hello, Alfred? Three words: Epic rap battle.

* * *

Alfred F. Jones crashes (heroically, of course) into the room, disturbing a tower of books and landing sprawled out across the blue carpet. "The Hero has arrived!" he shouts into the floor—of course, all Canada hears is "thurr earoh hurss errivved," which greatly offends him. No one talks about his mother that way!

After a swift kick to the offender's ribs, CanaDERP climbs into the Author's lap and slurps down some more maple syrup—and then promptly finds himself in a heap on the floor, beside his brother. The author pulls her laptop into her lap and begins typing as the two nations prepare for the rap battle of the century.

America hooks up the speakers and sets up the mics, while Canada checks over his lyrics one last time. He wants this to be perfect.

It doesn't take long before the two are ready. They take their places and grab up their microphones, glaring at each other.

"Alright," says the Author, setting her laptop on the desk and shifting it so the camera can record this battle of epic rappness. "Each of you are allowed one minute each, and the next must pick up exactly where the first left off, and then we wil switch once more. Understand?" At the nods of affirmation from the nations, she continued, "America will begin…now!"

Alfred stpped forward, his baggy clothes and heavy blingage swinging with his movements. He held up his microphone and began,

"Hey, yo, bro, everybody know, I got this sweet beat and you just can't take the heat 'cause you ain't got nothin' but _snow_!"

America's allotted minute up, Canada steps forward. He seems fierce, ready to win. He opens his mouth, and both America and the Author lean forward to catch the haunting lyrics that echo from his lips.

"HERP DE DERP DERP, DE DERP DE DERP DERP, DERP DERP DERP DE DERP DE DERP DERP! HERP DE DERP DERP, DE DERP DERP CANADERRRRP!"

The Author and America stare at Canada, dumfounded. Then America steps toward his brother and embraces him. "Oh, God, dude, I could _never_ say anything so inspirational! It's amazing!"

When he steps back, there are tears in his eyes.

* * *

**CanaDERP:** BEST RAP EVERRRRRR~!

**Author:** *wipes away tears* Yes, CanaDERP. That was *sniff* absolutely lovely!

**CanaDERP:** *glomps Author*

**Author:** *returns glomp* *thinks to self: _Why the hell can't I write rap?*_


	9. Chapter 9:CanaDERP is a Gummy Bear

**AskCanaDERP!**

**Author:** CanaDERP. Why are you in the closet again…?

**CanaDERP**: Erm…HERP! *quickly runs out of closet and flings self at ceiling fan*

**Author:** CANADERP YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK MY—

_CRASH!_

**CanaDERP**: HURR HURR THAT WAS FUUUUUNNNN~! *climbs out from under fan and bits of ceiling*

**Prussia**: *runs out of closet* _Mein _Birdie! Are you hurt?

**Author:** WHAT THE FRINK ARE YOU DOING IN MY CLOSET?

**Prussia:** Kesesesese~! ;D

Author: O_O Um, anyway…CanaDERP, you have a letter from a friend of mine, who goes by Piano'sIrishTater!

**CanaDERP:** SOUNDS YUMMY! *nibbles on own hand*

**Author:** *sighs* Yes, CanaDERP. Anyway, Piano'sIrishTater writes,

"_1. How could you cheat on Gil with Ivan? He's the awesome Prussia, for_

_maple's sake!_

_and_

_2. Will you please sing me the tipsy Canadian version of The Gummy Bear Song~?"_

**Prussia:** Mattie! What is this about you cheating on _mein_ awesomeness?

**CanaDERP:** *screams and hides under desk* NOOOOOO THE VODKERRRR MADE MEEEEE!

**Prussia:** *drags CanaDERP out by ankles* THE VODKA MADE YOU DO VHAT, YOU _KLEINE_ _BETRUNKENE_ _AHORNSIRUP_ _LIEBEN_ _BETRUGER_!?

**Author:** *grabs Prussia* No, Prussia! It's not what you think! I mean, yeah, you were right to call CanaDERP drunken and maple-syrup loving, but he's _not_ a cheater, I promise!

**Prussia**: *death glare*

**Author:** Russia gave CanaDERP some vodka five or so years ago and got him drunk—and _not_ maple-syrup-drunk. And then Russia made him become one with him.

**Prussia:** *holds CanaDERP upside down and shakes him* _Dummkopf_! How could you become one with that—

**CanaDERP:** NUUUUUUUU! THE IRON PIPE OF DOOOOOOOM! *escapes Prussia's clutches and dives out window*

**Author:** And then when CanaDERP was…relatively sober again, he got his revenge on Russia and—

**Prussia:** I'M COMIN', BIRDIE! *leaps out window*

**Author:** …Well, okay, then. *leans out window and sees CanaDERP and Prussia making out under tree* HEY, YOU DERPY CANADIAN! YOU STILL HAVE TO SING THE GUMMY BEAR SONG!

* * *

You sigh, scuffing your toe across the cement as you walk. Why did you agree to come here? Your friend had other people she could have dragged to this club with her. _Why did I agree_?

Your friend steps ahead of you and pulls you into a new building. Dance music pours out of the speakers, and the floor is crowded with flailing bodies, sweating and laughing and screaming obscenities.

Oh, joy.

Your friend leads you up to the bar, where she orders the two of you brightly-colored, fizzy alcohol.

She knows you don't drink.

You sigh and take the glass anyway, frowning at the contents. And then you hear the music stop. You look up to see the frenzied crowd paused, grumbling, and you follow their gazes to a man up on the stage, a man you've seen far too often as of late.

Canada grins at the angry mob and clutches the microphone. "IS EVERRRRRYBODY FELIN' HERP-DERP TONIGHT?" he calls, and the crowd screams at him. He laughs, and the music starts up again. But it's not the song that had been playing before; no, now it's…

The Gummy Bear Song?

You groan and put your head in your hands. You've seen enough of Canada that you know that, whatever's coming next, it won't pretty.

"_Oh I'm a gummmmmy bear!_

_Yes I'm a gummy bearrrrrr!_

_Oh I'm a yummy tummy funny lucky gummy bear!_

_I'm a DERPY bear!_

_Cause I´m a gummy bear!_

_Oh I'm a movin' groovin' jammin' singing gummy bear~!"_

The crowd stared at Canada. He was obviously crazy. Didn't he know that a club like this was no place for a song like that? They glared daggers at him, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for the idiot.

"_Gummy Gummy Gummy Gummy Gummibear_

_Gummy Gummy Gummy Gummy Gummibear_

_herp derp be derp party_

_herp derp be derp party_

_MAPLE baderp derp party party HERP_

_Nerp derp be derp party_

_Yerp derp be derp party_

_MAPLE baderp derp party party HERP!"_

His lyrics weren't even the same! They made no sense whatsoever! The crowd was growing angry in their drunkenness. They began to climb up on the stage, death in their eyes.

You sigh and set down your untouched drink, standing. Your friend glances at you, but she's already too drunk to care one way or the other. Slowly, your head held high, you make your way through the rampaging crowd and stand beside the grinning Canada. Without a word, the two of you begin to sing together.

"_Ba Ba CanaDERP Yum Yum_

_Ba Ba CanaDERP Yum Yum_

_Ba Ba Bidubidubi Yum Yum_

_Three Times You Can Bite Me_

_Ba Ba CanaDERP Yum Yum_

_Ba Ba CanaDERP Yum Yum_

_Ba Ba CanaDERP Yum Yum_

_Three Times You Can Bite Me~!"_

You continue singing along with the ridiculous lyrics, and the crowd begins to calm down, heading back down to the dance floor. You glance at Canada; he grins at you.

As the song comes to an end, the man leans in close to you and softly says,

"_Oh Oh Oh Oh CanaDERP party derpderp_

_hurr berp du berp HURRRP gummy bear_

_Oh Oh Oh Oh berp du berp HURRRP HERP_

_gerp du berp gerp berp derpderp gummy bear party HERP~!"_

And suddenly, you don't mind that your friend dragged you down here.

* * *

**Author:** CANADERP THAT'S LAAAAAAME.

**CanaDERP:** 'Tis not _lame_! Does this song honestly seem incurably injured to you?

**Author:** Prussia, fix CanaDERP. He's turning into Iggy again.

**Prussia:** Kesesesese~! *kisses CanaDERP*

**CanaDERP:** *derps off into the sunset, never to be seen again*

**Author:** O_O

**Prussia:** ;A;

**Author:** …the hell just happened?


	10. Chapter 10: Derpenese

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** Ah, CanaDERP. I see you're back from…wherever it was you derped off to last time.

**CanaDERP:** YERP. *nuzzles Author*

**Author:** *stabs CanaDERP with a pillow* KNOCK IT OFF, CANADERP! It's time to read this letter!

**CanaDERP:** *dies from mortal wound with pillow*

**Author:** I KILLED CANADERP. D8

**CanaDERP:** *is still dead*

**Author:** *pokes with stick*

**CanaDERP:** *revives and eats Author's hand*

**Author:** *stares daggers at CanaDERP until he regurgitates her hand* *reattaches hand and clears throat* Now, as I was saying, we have here a letter from an anonymous writer! Anon writes,

"_Dear CanaDERP,_

_I saw that you were saying things like "Herp" and "Derp" a lot._

_Can you tell us what all those weird words you use mean?"_

**CanaDERP**: HURRRRRM.

**Author:** A relatively normal question, eh, CanaDERP? So, care to tell our readers about Derpenese?

**CanaDERP:** *hands Author an "English to Derpenese" dictionary and is magically absorbed into the internet*

**Author**: *shrugs* Well, at least I don't have to worry about him today. Okay, so here are the definitions of CanaDERP's most-used words.

* * *

_NERP:_ Negative; no; nope.

_YERP:_ Affirmative; yes; yep.

_DERP:_ 1.) (noun) One who derps. 2.) (verb) To act very stupid or idiotic.

_HERP:_ I don't really know or care about what we're talking about, so I'm just going to say this random word so it seems as though I do.

_HURR:_ I am a drunken Canadian who enjoys maple syrup immensely. I am adorable and strange, and therefore you must adore me.

* * *

**Author:** Those are rough translations, of course, but I think you all get the gist of it. Derpenese is an idiotic language reserved only for the drunk and/or insane. In other words, CanaDERP probably invented it sometime in his long life.

**CanaDERP:** *from computer* HURR HURR I CAN GOOOOOOGLE.

**Author:** No, CanaDERP! Don't type that!

**CanaDERP:** BUT I WANNA KNOW WHAT AMECAN IS!

**Author:** NOOOOO, CLOSE YOUR EYES, CANADERP! CLOSE YOUR SWEET LITTLE EYES!

**CanaDERP:** *screams because WHAT IS AMERICA DOING TO HIM IN THAT PICTURE?*

**Author:** *destroys laptop and frees CanaDERP*

**CanaDERP:** *goes to emo corner and grows mushrooms*

**Author**: o.e


	11. Chapter 11: Canadian, Please!

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** CanaDERP! Mail call!

**CanaDERP:** *swings down from rafters in nothing but a loincloth* CANADERRRP IS SO LOOOVED~!

**Author:** Yes, CanaDERP. When you are drunk on maple syrup, you are FAR from invisible. Now, please stop prancing around in that loincloth. My eyes are still bleeding from that thing you did in MY bikini the other day.

**CanaDERP:** *creates toga using bedsheets* HERP.

**Author:** Well, okay, then. Anyway, this letter comes from none other than Hungary! Hungary writes,

"_Hey, it's Hungary, lol when poor CanaDERP Found out about AmeCan, I  
almost died. Ok, first things first, I dare you to dress up in a hooker  
outfit, and do the pelvic thrust to the song, "Canadian please" If you haven't  
heard the song, you must CanaDERP, YOU MUST! Secondly, Which would you rather  
do: Make an AmeCan BL CD(Lol I just had to bring AmeCan up again) Cheat on  
Prussia, or go without maple syrup for a week? Thanks, love Hungary! -Goes to  
read PruCan Doujinshi and read AmeCan Fanfiction- I speak the language of the  
derp! HURRRRRR."_

**CanaDERP:** *attempts to hide under bed*

**Author:** (o.e) H-Hungary…LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO CANADERP! *pulls CanaDERP out from under bed*

**CanaDERP:** NOOOOO TOO MUCH AMECAN _TOO MUCH AMECAN_!

**Author:** I'm sorry, CanaDERP! But you agreed to answer any and all questions when you took this job! Just like I agreed to watch out for you when I—wait. I've pretty much been failing at my job, haven't I? *pulls CanaDERP into lap* Okay, CanaDERP. How about you do the tough part first? Which of those three things would you rather do?

**CanaDERP:** WELL I'M NOT *hic* GOING TO DO ANYTHING DEALING WITH AMECAN! *shudders because MEMORIES* AND I WOULD NEVVVVVVERRRRR CHEAT ON MY GILLY-POO!

**Prussia:** *from outside* You tell 'em, _mein_ Birdie!

**CanaDERP**: …but I don't want to go without my maple syrup…

**Author:** OH GOOD LORD HE'S BECOMING SOBER JUST THINKING OF GIVNG UP HIS MAPLE SYRUP. WE CANNOT HAVE HIM BEING SOBER DURING WORK HOURS. *pours maple syrup down CanaDERP's throat*

**CanaDERP:** YAAAAAAAAY SYRUP~! *licks Author's eye*

**Author:** Ew. *pushes CanaDERP out of lap* You _have_ to answer the question, CanaDERP! Which would you rather do?

**CanaDERP:** …I guess…I'd rather not have my HERP DERP SYYYYYRUP than anything else…

**Author:** *pats CanaDERP on back* Good job, CanaDERP. See? That wasn't so hard, was it? :D And now for the fun (for you) part!

**CanaDERP:** YAAAAY I'M A HOOKER NOW!

**Prussia:** *nosebleed*

* * *

You are walking down the dark street one night, clutching your purse to your chest. Your heart is beating frantically. You know you should have grabbed a cab, but it was only a few blocks to your apartment, so you'd decided to walk.

And now it's too late.

You are only halfway home when you see movement in a pitch-black alleyway. You left out a sharp gasp and freeze in place, terrified. What if it's a mugger, or a rapist? Anyone could be hiding in those shadows!

Backing up a step, you keep your eyes on the figure. The figure steps out, into the moonlit night, and your heart stops altogether…

Until you realize who it is.

"Canada!" you shout, throwing your hands around your acquaintance. You wouldn't normally be so touchy-feely, but you're just so _relieved_ that you can't seem to help yourself.

The tall blond man returns your hug. "HURR HURR HELLO THERE~!" he says. You release him, and it's only then that you notice what he's wearing. Canada is clad in a tight leather corset, his chest hair spilling out over the top of it. He wears some sort of black man-thong, with fishnet stockings covering his legs and tall black high-heeled boots.

Canada is dressed as a hooker.

You start to blush madly, backing up. "I—I didn't know you were—I-I'm sorry, I didn't—"

He cuts you off with a smirk, and you stop, staring at him. He snaps his fingers, and a song begins to play from somewhere. A woman's voice begins to sing,

"_Yeah, I know that you want to be Canadian, please,_

_Even if in winter things tend to freeze,_

_We got the world monopoly on trees,_

_And our country's bordered by three different seas!"_

You feel your eye twitch. What is _with_ this guy and his obsession with singing and dancing in strange outfits?

In fact, the blond begins to dance right then, thrusting his hips and wriggling at you seductively. His own voice joins in with a man's as the song continues,

"_Yeah, I know that you wanna be Canadian, please,_

_We invented the zipper, we got expertise!_

_We made insulin to combat disease,_

_Yeah, I know that you wanna be Canadian, please!"_

You know that you should probably leave—this situation is just so awkward! And yet, you simply watch as this imbecilic man dances around you in his hooker outfit.

"_The Brits have got the monarchy,_

_The US has the money,_

_But I know that you wanna be CANADERPIAN~!_

_The French have got the wine and cheese,_

_Koalas chill with the Aussies,_

_But I know that you wanna be CANADERPIAN~!"_

Oh, gosh, you really need to go, it's getting even darker now, but suddenly he's pulling out a bottle of maple syrup, still doing his strangely attractive pelvic thrust, and you just can't seem to get your feet to move!"

And now he's _singing in French. _What do you do? What should you do?

"_Yeah, I know that you wanna be CANADERPIAN, please!_

_Where else can you see mounted police_

_Or go to the hospital and not pay fees_

_Yeah, I know that you wanna be CANADERPIAN, please!"_

And now it is _incredibly_ awkward, because as he sings the last line, he begins to pour the maple syrup all over his scantily-clad body, eyeing you intensely as he dances ever closer.

You step into the street, if only to be farther away from this crazy man, but he follows you, winking and thrusting.

You hear a screeching noise, and you jump out of the way just as a red Ferari crashes into Canada, sending him flying away. The music continues to play.

"_The Brits have got the monarchy_

_The US has the money_

_But I know that you wanna be Canadian~!_

_The French have got the wine and cheese_

_Koalas chill with the Aussies_

_But I know that you wanna be Canadian~!"_

Italy steps out of the car. "Ve~!" he says. "I think I just hit a moose~!"

And then the two of you begin to dance in the street together as the song comes to an end.

"_The Greek all chilled with Socrates_

_Can't build a wall like the Chinese_

_But I know that you wanna be Canadian~!_

_In Kenya they have safaris_

_We've missed lots of other countries_

_But I know that you wanna be._

_CANADIAAAAAAAN~!"_

* * *

**Author:** CanaDERP.

**CanaDERP:** HURRRRM?

**Author**: WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS DANCING NEARLY NAKED IN THE STRET AND THEN GETTING HIT BY ITALY'S CAR?

**Prussia:** Kesesese~! It's because _mein_ Birdie is almost as AWESOME as I am!

**Author:** THAT MAKES NO SENSE WHATSOEVER! *sighs and rubs temples* Why didn't I listen to Mother…? Well, at least Hungary has good taste in music!

**CanaDERP:** *turns on _Canadian, Please_ and all three begin to dance to it*

**Author:** BUT I KNOW THAT YOU WANNA BE CANAAAAAADIAAAAAAN!


	12. Chapter 12: Tomato Sauce

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**CanaDERP:** *leaps onto Author's bed* WAKE UUUUUP~! LEEEETTTERRRRR~!

**Author:** *jerks awake and pulls out iron pipe*

**CanaDERP:** *screams and hides under pillow* NUUUU THE IRON PIPE OF DOOOOM!

**Author:** CanaDERP. What are you doing _leaping onto my bed_ at 6 AM? *puts iron pipe away*

**CanaDERP:** *attempts to kill iron pipe with him bare hands* *FAILS*

**Author:** *takes iron pipe and chucks it out window* CanaDERP.

**CanaDERP:** *brandishing envelope* GOT ANOTHER *hic* LETTER FROM TAAAAATER~!

**Author:** *grinning* Ah, Piano'sIrishTater sent us another question? Excellent! Here, let me read it.

"_Dear CanaDERP,_

_1. I was just curious...What would happen if Romano replaced all your maple_

_syrup with tomato sauce without you knowing?_

_and_

_2. Have you ever considered going to a SA (syrupaholics anonymous) meeting?"_

Those are some good questions! Well, CanaDERP?

**CanaDERP:** I WENT TO AN SA MEETING ONCE!

**Author:** What, seriously? Why would you go there? I thought you loved being maple-syrup-drunk!

**CanaDERP**: FRANCE SAID THAT IF I DIDN'T GO, HE WOULD *hic* [beep] WITH ME AND [boop] ME AND [beepity-boop] MY—

**Author:** *covering ears* OH GOSH NO STOP FRANCE WHY!

**CanaDERP:** HURRRRR~!

**Author:** *sighs* Okay, so what exactly happened at this meeting?

**CanaDERP:** WELL, WHEN I GOT THERE, THEY CONFISCATED ALLLLL MY SYYYYYYRUP AND THREW IT IN A TRASH BIN. SO I WASN'T THERE VERY LONG.

**Author: **Oh gosh, please tell me you did _not_ go Crazy-Canadan-Hockey-Player on them.

**CanaDERP:** *grins*

**Author: **CanaDERP, you are a terrible person! *giggles* Well, anyway, what would you do if Romano replaced your syrup with tomato sauce? How would you react?

* * *

The new Italian restaurant that Italy suggested you all try seems…interesting.

You are currently seated beside Canada in the booth, who is drizzling his precious maple syrup onto his spaghetti. Across from you sits Italy, who is shoveling pasta into his mouth like there's no tomorrow, happily oblivious to everything else, and, next to him, Romano glares at Canada, clutching a red, ripe tomato.

You try to ignore them all, wondering once more why you continue to hang out with these guys. You absently twirl a few noodles on your fork, a bit bored.

Canada stands suddenly and announces that he's "GOTTA VISIT THE LITTLE CANADIANS' ROOOOOM~!" before he leaves for the bathroom. You put your head into your hands and sigh.

You notice movement to your right, and you turn to see Romano, grinning evilly, pouring Canada's maple syrup onto a nearby potted plant. Once all nine bottles are empty, he sneakily pulls out a gallon-sized jug of tomato sauce.

"Just wait until that maple bastard gets a load of this!" he chortles as he pours the sauce into each of the dark bottles. He recaps the near-empty jug and hid it once more just as the Canadian rejoins them, singing something under his breath (which means, of course, at the top of his lungs). He slides in beside you again, scooting closer until he's practically in your lap. He grabs up one of the syrup bottles and takes a gulp.

His expression freezes, the color draining from his face. He pulls the bottle away from his lips and gapes at it, tomato sauce flowing down his chin. "WHAT TRICKERY IS THIS?" he cries.

Romano lets out a long, loud laugh. "That's tomato juice, you bastard! That's what you get for getting in the way of my fratello's car and scratching his paint job!"

Canada stares at Romano's smug smirk for a moment. Then he shrugs and takes another swig.

You and Romano gape at him as he guzzles the whole thing.

"What are you _doing_, Canada?" you ask, incredulous.

Canada grinned as he set the bottle down. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out Prussia, setting him in his lap. He pulled Prussia's face down to his and began to kiss him passionately.

Romano snatched up his oblivious brother and fled the restaurant, shielding his eyes and shouting something about perverts and bastards. You followed once Canada's hands began wandering across the planes of Prussia's chest.

_Never again!_ You tell yourself. You know for a fact that you will _never _hang out with Canada again.

* * *

**Author:** CanaDERP. Did you just say that tomato sauce, ah…

**CanaDERP:** KISSY-KISSY~!

**Author:** So, tomato sauce is…um, your…aphrodisiac?

**CanaDERP:** *smirks and pulls out bottle of tomato sauce*

**Author:** *flees country*


	13. Chapter 13: One of Your French Girls

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** CanaDERP? Are you here?

**America:** Yes, I'm right here, dude!

**Author:** *suspiciously* Hmm…you seem different today, CanaDERP. Not quite so…

**America:** Annoying? Ugly? Canadian?

**Author:** …drunk. *pulls out maple syrup and hamburger*

**America:** *squeals like a fangirl and eats burger*

**Author:** o.o

**CanaDERP:** *leaps out of America's pocket and glomps Author* YAAAAY SYYYYYRUP!

**Author:** O_O

**CanaDERP:** LOOK, LOOK, A LETTER! *shoves letter in Author's mouth*

**Author:** MMF! *takes letter and shoves America out window* Um, thanks, CanaDERP…Okay, musicalvampire writes:

"_dear canaDERP,_

_I have two questions:_

_1: what would you do for a klondike bar?_

_and 2: Would you let me draw you like one of your French girls?"_

**CanaDERP:** AHMYGAWD KLONDIKE BAR!

**Author:** NO CANADERP! NOT THE HAND! NOT THE HANNNNND!

**CanaDERP:** *clears throat* In answer to your inquiry, musicalvampire, there are many things that I would do for a Klondike bar. I would, for example, eat the Authors hand; I am currently doing this right now, in fact. I would also jump out a plane without a parachute, ride a moose naked down the street in any given city in Canada, and I would also beat myself with an iron pipe to the point of unconsciousness. Yes, quite.

**Author:** *extracts hand from CanaDERP's mouth* AMERIAAAA! CANADERP'S TURNING INTO CANADIAN IGGY AGAIN!

**America:** *leaps back into room, dressed as Captain America* Never fear, the HERO is here!

**CanaDERP:** *stares at America for a moment, and then eats him*

**Author:** O_O

**CanaDERP:** 8D

**Author:** …please just answer the rest of this letter.

* * *

Today is your first day of art class. You walk into the classroom, your sketchbook clutched in front of you and a snazzy beret perched atop your head. There are quite a few students already seated around the one big, round table in the room, and you join them, sliding in beside one of your friends.

"Hi," she says, arranging her pens in front of her.

"Hey. Have you seen the teacher yet?" You look around, but there appears to be no one else in the room but the students.

Your friend shrugs. "Nah. But I heard he's hot! Like, super-sexy-awesomesauce hot."

You roll your eyes. "You're so shallow. Not everything's about aesthetics, y'know."

You smile. Aesthetics. See, you can remember vocab from last year's art class!

The bell rings, announcing the beginning of third period. There is still no teacher in sight.

You and the other students wait for ten minutes more, talking loudly amongst yourselves. Where is your new teacher? Why is he late?

Suddenly, the door to the supply cupboard to your right slams open, and everyone whips their head around to see a tall blond man appear from the shadows. He wears nothing but a red towel wrapped around his waist.

"GOOD MORNING, STUUUUUDENTS~!" he calls, hopping up onto the table. "WHO'S READY TO BE ARTISTICAL?"

You stare at him out of the corner of your eye. No way is this guy your art teacher! He's too…

_Super-sexy-awesomesauce hot_. And creepy.

The girls around you giggle, and the guys start to laugh. Smirking, the teacher reaches down and begins to pull off his towel.

You cover your eyes, and all around you hear the sounds of gasps, screams, and chairs scooting away. You peek through your fingers to see the teacher standing atop the table, gazing at his students in all his naked glory.

Well, he at least has a red maple leaf covering his..._area_.

He grins and lies on his side in the middle of the table, one arm propping up his head and one leg bent up in the air sensually. "NOW, MY STUDENTS, DRAW ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR FREEEEENCH GIRRRRRLS~!"

He winks directly at you, flashing you a bright smile, and you realize something.

_The maple leaf doesn't cover everything_.

* * *

**Author:** CanaDERP! You're traumatizing high school kids now?!

**CanaDERP:** HURR HURR~!

**Author:** Honestly, CanaDERP, I will _take your syrup away forever_ if you don't stop being such an idiot! And spit out your brother!

**CanaDERP:** *waggles eyebrows*

**Author:** *sighs and gives Klondike bar*

**CanaDERP:** *barfs up America and eats Klondike bar*

**America:** …can you call my mom?

**Author:** Should've listened to Mother, should've listened to Mother, should've listened to Mother…


	14. Chapter 14: Busby's Chair

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** *walks into bedroom, dejected* Hey, CanaDERP…

**CanaDERP:** *leaps out of dresser* I WASN'T READING YOUR DIARY!

**Author:** *sighs*I don't care if you read my diary, CanaDERP. My life is boring and terrible, anyway…

**CanaDERP:** *hugs Author* NO IT'S NOT! BECAUSE *hic* I'M HEEEEERE~!

**Author:** Thanks, CanaDERP, but that's kind of the problem…my mom is yelling at me for turning down that job at the New York Times to work with you…

**CanaDERP:** *licks Author's cheek*

**Author:** *freezes* CanaDERP, what are you doing?

**CanaDERP:** CHEERING YOU UP! *pours maple syrup down Author's throat*

**Author:** *coughs, chokes* Um…thanks, CanaDERP. I guess I feel a little better…? Anyway, here's a letter from a new reader. IceShadowCat writes,

"_Hiiiiiii CanaDERP! _

_I too, have gotten drunk(?) on maple syrup before (also gotten drunk on lemonade_

_too XD)_

_it was fuuuun! _

_I have 2 questions :3_

_1- Have you ever thrown a chair off the top of a 10 foot high monkey-bars? If_

_so did the chair break, because when I did so it broke in half and I would_

_like to know of this is a common occurrence in chairs._

_2- How much maple syrup do you drink in a day?!_

_(p.s. I like penguins)"_

…

*giggles*

**CanaDERP:** YAY YOU GIGGLED! *high-fives IceShadowCat through internet for cheering up Author* AND WE CAN BE DRINKING BUDDIES~!

**Author:** Yes, thanks, IceShadowCat. I don't feel so terrible about taking this job now! :D Okay, CanaDERP. Care to answer?

**CanaDERP:** I DRINK LOOOOOOTS OF MAPLE SYRUP EVERY DAY! *guzzles syrup*

**Author:** But _how much_ is "a lot," CanaDERP? Our readers need specifics!

**CanaDERP:** *opens closet to reveal a flood of maple syrup bottles, which fall out and fill bedroom*

**Author:** *screams and hits CanaDERP* CANADERP! WHERE DID ALL THOSE COME FROM?

**CanaDERP:** THEY'RE MY EMPTIES FROM TODAY~!

**Author:** *pales* _Today_? As in, you drank _all_ of these today?

**CanaDERP:** One…two…three…four…five…

**Author:** *sighs* CanaDERP, I'll count. You answer the other question.

**CanaDERP:** OKIES~!

* * *

Canada gazes up at the tall structure in front of him. Monkey bars. The bane of his existence. He shudders and looks away, trying to keep his gaze away from it.

But he finds himself unable to look away for long. His gaze always returns to its menacing form, highlighted shining silver against the blue of the cloudless sky.

He swallows and steels himself. He's going to climb it. He _must_ climb it. With a sigh, he takes a step toward his old arch nemesis.

He takes another step.

And another.

He tentatively puts out one hand and touches the cold metal, pulling himself up, his burden strapped to his back. _This isn't so bad_, he thinks to himself. Hand-over-hand he climbs to the top of the ten-foot frame, shivering just slightly.

Crouching atop the monkey bars, he takes his burden from his back and holds it out in front of him, eyeing it with distaste.

Busby's chair.

The chair that nearly killed his brother, the same way these very monkey bars had nearly killed him.

And now, each would be the death of the other. Canada slowly approaches the edge of the bars, trying not to look down.

He swallows again as he grips the back of Busby's chair, dangling it out over open space. He glares at the chair, and he swears that it stares back at him, pleading for mercy.

But this chair does not deserve mercy. This chair is a murderer. With one last glare, he releases it, sending it topping end-over-end to the ground. As he watches, the chair strikes the rocky ground, smashing into hundreds of pieces with one last cry of "_I'll always love you, Canada!"_

And Canada sucks in one more breath before he leaps off the opposite side, the monkey bars dying a fiery death as the terrible magic of Busby's chair forces it to its knees.

Canada strikes the ground, tucking and rolling onto the nearby grass. He quickly takes cover behind a bush, watching with glee as his two arch-nemeses destroy one another.

And then he stands, grins, and walks on.

His job is done.

* * *

**Author:** …one thousand four-hundred-forty-five, one thousand four-hundred-forty-six, one thousand four-hundred-forty-seven! *tosses last bottle out window* Phew! CanaDERP, did you know that you drank one thousand four-hundred-forty-seven bottles of maple syrup today? How is that even possible? I mean, how do you pay for this addiction? And also—CanaDERP. Why are you cuddling a penguin?

**CanaDERP:** *cuddles penguin* PENOGO IS MY NEW FRIEND!

**Penogo:** O_O

**Author:** But what about Kumijiro, your polar bear?

**CanaDERP:** KUJIMIRO HATES ME! *kisses penguin* BUT *hic* PENOGO LOOOOOOVES ME, DON'T YOU, PENOGO?

**Penogo:** …can you please call my mother?

**Author:** *leaps out window in desperate attempt to escape madness*


	15. Chapter 15: CanaDERP's Aphrodisiac

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** *bounces into room* Oh, CanaDERP~!

**CanaDERP:** Our home and native laaaaannnnd~!

True patriot love in all thy sons commmmmmannnnnd~!

**Author:** CANADERP. NO. YOU ARE NOT SINGING IT AGAIN.

**CanaDERP:** *crosses arms and pouts*

**Author:** Anyway, CanaDERP, we have another letter from BloodSuckingFerret! You remember her, right?

**CanaDERP:** *screams and clutches head* AMECAN! AMECAN, NOOOOO!

Author: BSF HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH AMECAN! THAT WAS THE ANON!

**CanaDERP:** Oh. Then YAAAAAY BLOODSUCKING*hic*FERRET I MISSED YOU~!

**Author:** *sighs* At any rate, BSF writes,

"_Dear author,_

_I am deeply and truly sorry about this. *gives author $20 so that she can go_

_see a movie instead of watching this*"_

*takes $20 bill* What? Well, thank you, but now I'm legitimately frightened…The letter continues:

" _I greatly apologize, but I made a deal_

_with Hungary and Taiwan... First of all, please call Prussia. Second of all_

_*Gives Canada 3 large pitchers of tomato sauce* once again, very, very sorry._

_On a partially related note, Japan and I getting married! You may come to the_

_wedding if you want to. You're all invited! (in case you were wondering, yes,_

_that WAS the deal I made with Hungary and Taiwan, and yes, they ARE watching._

_Sorry.)"_

NO NO NO NO NO. CanaDERP, run away, okay? Don't let them pressure you into it! JUST RUUUUUN!

**CanaDERP:** *on phone* HI, GILLY-POO~! GUESS WHAT~?

**Author:** *headdesk headdesk headdesk* Noooo, CanaDERP…Don't dooooo iiiiittttt!

**CanaDERP:** THREE PITCHERS OF IIIITTTT~! OKAY, SEE YOU THEN~! *hangs up and turns to Author* GILLY SAYS HE'S *hic* ON HIS WAY OV—

_DingDongDingDongDingDongDing _

OH, THAT MUST BE HIM! *runs to front door*

**Author:** *pulls hair out* What do I do? Should I stay here and make sure things don't go too far? Or should I just leave and pretend it never happened? *hears CanaDERP and Prussia giggling on stairs* AW WHATEVER I'M OUTTA HERE! *teleports to movie theater*

* * *

Canada opens the door to his house, blushing slightly when he notices just who it is standing on his front stoop. "Oh, h-hi, Gil…" he mumbles, opening the door to usher him in.

"_Danke_, Mattie," he says, strolling in as though he owns the place. He drops his jacket on the back of the couch and leans against the wall, exuding an aura of sheer awesomeness. "So, vhat did you want, Birdie?"

Canada looked down, fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie. "W-well, I was just thinking…you know, we haven't really been able to hang out much since the last World Conference, and I thought that…maybe, we could…" he trails off, blushing furiously. "Anyway. Um, I'll just go get us something to drink, okay?"

He goes into the kitchen, leaving a pondering Prussia behind. He pulls two tall glasses from the cupboard and grabs a pitcher from the fridge. He places these all on a tray and comes back into the living room, where his boyfriend reclines on the couch. Prussia turns his head and smiles at him.

Canada sets the tray down and pours out drinks for the both of them, filling the glasses with a thick red liquid. Prussia's interest is piqued. "Is that…?" he asks, incredulous.

The blond blushes and nods, bringing one of the glasses to his lips and sipping at its contents. Prussia grins and takes a swig. The wonders of tomato sauce never failed to amaze him.

**ONE HOUR AND THREE PITCHERS OF TOMATO SAUCE LATER**

Canada lies on the couch, panting heavily. "That…that was AWESOME, Gil!" he says weakly.

Prussia smirks and bends down to place a kiss on his lips. "It was, _mein_ Birdie. I never knew you were so good!"

Blushing, Canada swings his legs off the side of the couch, looking away. "Well, America comes over a lot, so I…get a lot of practice in…"

Prussia leans in close, pulling his boyfriend's face closer to his. "Wanna go another round?" he asks quietly, and Canada nods.

But this time, Prussia beats Canada at Mario Kart, and their scores are tied.

* * *

**Author:** Arrives home, fearing the worst* CanaDERP? Are…are you here?

**CanaDERP:** *moans from bedroom*

**Author:** o.e Um, CanaDERP…?

**Prussia:** *squeals from same general directions*

**Author:** *flees back to car*

**IN BEDROOM**

**CanaDERP:** *moans* Gilly…but _I_ wanted to be Princess Peach!

**Prussia:** *squeals* You would look so cute in her dress~!


	16. Chapter 16: Show Him a Good Time

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**CanaDERP:** *dancing atop a table in the kitchen* HURRRM HURRRM HURRRM HURRRRM~!

**Author:** Why is it that whenever I come home, this is what I find?

**CanaDERP:** YAY AUTHOR'S HOME! *leaps into her arms and kisses her cheek* I MISSSSSSED YOOOOU~! AND YOU MISSED *hic* SOME HOT PRUCAN ACTION!

**Author:** *drops CanaDERP*NO NO NO I DON'T WANT TO HEAR. I mean, I like PruCan (a LOT), but NO NO NO I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT—

**CanaDERP:** HE BEAT ME AT MARIO KART SIX TIMES IN A ROW!

**Author:** -because I'm just not that kind of person but—wait, he _what_?

**CanaDERP:** BUT I BEAT HIM ONCE, SO IT WAS ALL OKAY! *drinks syrup*

**Author:** S-so, you didn't, um…tomato sauce?

**CanaDERP:** IT WAS SODIUM-FREE, SO IT JUST MADE ME HYYYYYPERRRRR~!

**Author:** …more hyper than usual? And WHAT?

**CanaDERP:** HURR. *gives letter*

**Author:** -_- Okay, I'm confused, but this letter comes from Stories With a Term, who writes,

"_Oh hai dere! I heard you had maple syrup! Hehe.. Anyways, I have two_

_questions!_

_1) So, earlier today, I was curious about Paranormal activity the movies, so I_

_researched it, and the descriptions scared me! Would you ever watch it_

_CanaDERP?_

_2) Some smexy PruCan please? Show Gilly a good time big boy! You da second_

_biggest!"_

**CanaDERP**: MORE GILLY-TIME!

**Author:** Well, bye! *poofs away to Mother's house*

**Prussia:** *climbs out of refrigerator* Vhat's this about a _gut_ time?

**CanaDERP:** HURR HURR WAIT AND SEE!

**Prussia:** Oh, I brought a movie for us to vatch together, Birdie. *pulls out DVD*

**CanaDERP:** *screams and dives into trash cn* NOOOOO NOT PARNORML *hic* ACTIVITYYYYYY!

**Prussia:** Kesesesese! You're more chicken than your _bruder_ is!

**CanaDERP:** NUH-UH!

**Prussia:** Look, it's not even Paranormal Activity! *opens DVD case* See? It's _The Day the Earth Stood Still_, the vone from the fifties!

**CanaDERP:** *squeals and leaps out of trash can, strewing trash everywhere* YAAAAAY MOVIE!

* * *

Canada and Prussia sat side-by-side on the couch, their legs just brushing against each other's. Onscreen, a black-and-white movie played…but they really weren't paying much attention to it.

"So…five meters, huh?" asked Canada, looking up at his boyfriend through half-lidded eyes. Prussia chuckled.

"Five meters of awesome," he agreed, wrapping an arm around the blonde's shoulders and pulling him closer. Their lips met in a fiery kiss as the man on TV said, "Klaatu Barada Nikto."

Pulling away after a moment, Prussia smirked. "Does _mein_ Birdie want to see?"

Canada nodded, his face reddening.

They'd been dating for a few years now, but this would be their first time. He was nervous, and he felt that he had a perfect right to be.

Prussia's gaze softened. "It'll be fine, Mattie," he murmured. "It won't hurt…much." Pressing another kiss to his forehead, Prussia stood and left the room to go and get what they'd need, leaving Canada alone on the couch.

Could he really do this? He felt that he could. He knew he loved Gilbert with every fiber of his being, knew that he would do anything for him. But, still… He swallowed audibly.

Upon Prussia's return, the movie was paused, frozen in a picture of the starry sky. It suited the moment, they both decided. Then they set about binding Prussia's arms and legs together with the f-meter-long rope he'd brought.

Canada made sure to tie it tightly, but not so tight that it would hurt his boyfriend. Once he was bound, Prussia directed him in hoisting him to the ceiling, leaving him dangling from the rafters, his upside-down face level with Canada's. They kissed again, and this time, when the blond pulled away, the albino whispered, "Show me a _gut_ time, _mein_ _kleiner_ Birdie~!"

Canada nodded, reaching behind him to pull out the last thing they'd need to make this night: a stick, a stick stolen from Prussia's brother Germany long ago. And, with a scream of "HERP DERP PINAAAAAATAAAAA!" Canada began to beat him with it.

But no candy came out, and Canada was disappointed.

* * *

**CanaDERP:** HURRR HURRR, THAT WAS FUUUUNNNN~!

**Prussia:** *still dangling from ceiling*

**Author:** *pokes head in* Um, are you guys…y'know, _done_ yet? *sees Prussia* Wait. WHAT HAPPENED HERE?

**Prussia:** Birdie decided to show me a _gut_ time! I vas a _gut_ piñata!

**Author:** -_- I don't even know what's going on anymore.

**CanaDERP:** *climbs up Prussia and sits in rafters* :3


	17. Chapter 17: In Which There are Pokemon

_A/N: Just a note that this chapter will make little to no sense unless you have at least a basic understanding of the Pokémon franchise. If you've played any of the Mystery Dungeon games (particularly Red or Blue), then all the better. And, if you're as uber-obsessed with it as I am, then I give you 10,000 CanaDERP glomps!_

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** Check it out, CanaDERP! You've got a new letter!

**CanaDERP:** *pops into existence dressed as a belly dancer* YAAAY!

**Author:** Why, CanaDERP. Why.

**CanaDERP:** *belly dances for no apparent reason*

**Author:** *turns around* Anyway, this is another letter from Piano'sIrishTater!

**CanaDERP:** *belly dances some more* TATER YAY I LOOOOOVE YOU~!

**Author:** Tater asks,

"_CanaDERP, if you were a pokemon, which one would you be?"_

*stares open-mouthed at paper* I-it…it can't be…my…my amazing wealth of knowledge on the subject of Pokémon, gleaned through years and years of playing, watching, and collecting Pokémon…I CAN FINALLY USE IT TO BETTER SOCIETY! *laughs hysterically*

**CanaDERP**: WHAT'S *hic* POOOOOKEMOOOON?

**Author:** BLASPHEMY! *strangles CanaDERP*

**CanaDERP:** *flails about uselessly*

**Author:** *releases CanaDERP* I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. Anyway, let me think for a moment…since you obviously have no idea about the greatness that is Pokémon, I suppose I'll have to answer this question.

**CanaDERP:** *perches atop refrigerator*

**Author**: I've got it. You're a Bidoof. It's the only possible Pokémon for you.

**CanaDERP:** HERP?

**Author:** Yes, because you're so derpy and doofy, like a Bidoof, but you're also kinda cute and lovable. Plus, it's basically a cross between a bear and a beaver, and you're Canadian. Although, you're definitely… _tougher_ than a Bidoof…

* * *

You are taking a stroll through the Tiny Woods, searching for Oran Berries. If you're going to form a Pokémon Rescue Team, you're going to need all the Items you can get.

You spot one of the blue orbs up ahead, and, smiling, you run over to it just as fast as your four little legs can carry you. Just as you move to lift it into your pack, you hear a small cough in the distance.

You freeze. There have been far too many cases of Pokémon attacking each other as of late, and, though you've yet to see anyone else around here, you have a horrible suspicion that you're about to meet one. You just hope they're friendly.

Turning around, you spy a small form lying in the grass nearby. Whoever it is, they're not moving. Are they injured? You approach them cautiously, your electrical pouches ready to unleash their energy if anything happens.

It is a Bidoof, a Pokémon that is rare in this part of the world. He doesn't seem injured; it looks as though he's sleeping, and it's dangerous to sleep out here.

"Hey. Hey, guy!" you prod at the Bidoof with your tail, but all he does is twitch his nose a little. You sigh. You'll probably regret this later, but, really, it's the only way to wake him up. You unleash a small amount of electricity and zap him.

The Bidoof's eyes snap open, and he leaps into the air. "GAAAAAH!" he cries.

"Sorry, sorry!" you exclaim, patting him on the shoulder. "But you were passed out here in the woods and I had to wake you up! I'm Kachika, by the way."

The Bidoof stares at you, dumbfounded (or maybe that's just his natural expression). "AHMYGAWD A TALKING YELLOW PLUSHIE!" He attempts to hug you, but it seems as though his body doesn't move the way he thinks it ought to, as he just ends up falling to the ground in a heap.

"Um…are you alright, Mr. Bidoof? And can I have your name?"

The Bidoof eyes you suspiciously. "I'M FINE! THIS IS HOW I ALLLLLLLLWAYS AM!" He rights himself, looking at his body with interest. "HERP DERP I'M A BEAVER THING NOW!"

You start to back away. This Pokémon is obviously crazy. Maybe you should just leave now.

He turns back to you. "I'M CANADOOF!" he announces happily, pouncing on you. "AND NOW YOU'RE MY NEEEEEEW FRIIIIIEEEEEEEND~!"

You open your mouth to let out a scream when another Pokémon appears. "Oh, help me, please! Can you two help me?"

You shove the Bidoof off of you and turn to the Butterfree. In your best Pokémon Rescuer voice, you say, "I can try, ma'am. What do you need me to do?"

She explains, amid hysterics, that her baby Caterpie has disappeared into the forest, and she can't go in after him because other Pokémon are attacking her. "Of course I'll get your baby out, ma'am!" you say, snapping off a little salute. You look back at the Bidoof. "Hey, um, CanaDOOF, do you want to—"

The Bidoof is sitting in a puddle of maple syrup, floundering in the stuff and exclaiming something about hair growth.

You turn and walk off into the woods, alone. You'll find someone else to start a rescue team with, because this guy is just _insane_.

* * *

**CanaDERP:** *playing Nintendo DS* OH MY GOSH THIS IS SOOOOO FUN!

**Author:** *grins* I knew you'd like it if you played it, CanaDERP. So, which one did you start out with?

**CanaDERP:** OSHAWOTT IS ADORABLE!

**Author:** Hmm, Oshawott, huh? I usually pick Snivy, or sometimes Tepig. Anyway—what are you doing?

**CanaDERP:** *sticks hand into DS and pulls out Oshawott* *snuggles Oshawott* THIS IS MY *hic* BABY OTTER!

**Author:** O_O *gives every single Pokémon game in existence* CANADERP GIVE ME MY CHARIZARD FROM THIS GAME AND MY SNORLAX FROM THIS ONE AND MY HYDREIGON FROM THIS ONE AND—

**CanaDERP:** *explodes*

**Author:** *sobs because dreams of being a Pokémon Master have been crushed*


	18. Chapter 18: CanaDERP Gets Serious

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** *walks into bedroom* Hey, CanaDERP, you have a new—WHY IS RUSSIA IN HERE?

**CanaDERP**: HE CAME TO BRING ME SOME VODKAAAAAAA~!

**Russia:** *smiles* We had fun today, didn't we, Canadia?

**CanaDERP:** HURR HURR LOTS OF FUUUUUN!

**Author:** Did you make him become one with you again, Russia? *pulls out hockey stick*

**Russia:** I was just about to when you came in! Would you like to become one with us, too? *opens arms and walks toward Author*

**Author:** *beats Russia with hockey stick and shoves him out window*

**CanaDERP:** NUUUUUU MY FRIEND! *attempts to dive out window after him*

**Author:** *grabs CanaDERP's ankle and swings him back in, knocking over a multitude of lamps and other items that got in the way of his swinging self* NO, CANADERP. YOU HAVE A LETTER TO ANSWER. *epic stare down*

**CanaDERP:** *hides under dictionary* NUUUUUUUUU!

**Author:** *ignores* Okay, we have here another letter from Dark Glass! Dark Glass asks three questions, the first one being:

"_1. If I am correct, Canada uses the Metric, rather then Imperial system. Thus,_

_when one enters Canada, they must convert gallons to liters, pounds to_

_kilograms, American dollars to Canadian dollars, and miles to kilometers,_

_among dozens of other things. So, I was wondering, how many Canadians does it_

_take to make an American?"_

So, CanaDERP? D'you think you can answer it?

**CanaDERP:** *sitting on bed, one leg crossed over the other* Oh, of course I can, Author. It's actually rather simple. You see, you simply take the amount of liters in a gallon, which is approximately 3.8, multiply that by the number of pounds in a kilogram, (2.2), which is 8.36, and finally you multiply _that_ by the record number of hamburgers Alfred has eaten in an hour (39), and you get 0.21! And then you disregard everything I just told you and realize that one Canadian is equivalent to one American.

**Author:** O_O CanaDERP. Did you just do math?

CanaDERP: HERP~!

**Author:** …No more vodka for you. Anyway, here's the next question!

"_2. How would you solve the current social and economic issues in the European_

_Union? This cannot include changing the Euro for Syrup or the Canadian_

_Dollar."_

**CanaDERP:** I LOOOOOVE SYYYYYYRUP!

**Author:** Yes, CanaDERP. We know. I'm pretty sure that it's fairly obvious, since you drink over a thousand bottles of the stuff a day. Now, will you please answer the question?

**CanaDERP:** BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM BIG EXPLOOOOOOSIOOOOON! *makes explosion noises and falls off the bed, giggling*

**Author:** e_e So you're solution is to just…blow up the entire European Union?

**CanaDERP:** *nods vigorously*

**Author:** You are aware that if you do so, 27 nations will die. Including France, Germany, Austria, Finland, Sweden, Italy, Poland, Spain, and, technically, Prussia.

**CanaDERP:** *gasps* BUT I THOUGHT IT WOULD JUST MAKE EVERYONE TAN!

**Author:** *facepalm* Okay, last question, and then I'm taking you to a psychologist.

"_3. In relation to rising tensions in the Middle East, exactly how bad-**_

_should Turkey look when he flies in to establish the order and civilization of_

_Ottoman awesomeness?"_

* * *

You're sitting in the middle of a crowded street in the Middle East as buildings burn all around you. These are terrible times, times of violence and fear. You know that everything will work out eventually—everything will turn out for the better—but right now, in this moment, you just wish that things would go back to how they'd been before.

If only the death and destruction would end.

An explosion wracks a building nearby, but you don't flee, as you see others doing. What's the point?

There is none.

Bits of rock, metal, and wood fall all around you, and you know that this is going to be the end. You close your eyes, a small smile gracing your smudged face. At least you won't have to suffer anymore.

But instead of a crushing blow, you feel instead warm arms enfolding you, pulling you away to safety. As the building crashes down behind you, you open your eyes to find yourself looking up into the eyes of a masked man. He smirks as he sets you down, far from the danger, and you can't help but stare at him.

Silence falls across the city as the man walks up to the top of a large, smoldering heap of rubble. Guns stop firing, people stop shouting. The air becomes still, waiting for this strange man to speak.

Clearing his throat, the man opens his mouth, his green cape waving heroically behind him in a nonexistent breeze. "My people," he says in an accent that is familiar, yet foreign, "I am known as Turkey, and I have come to bring you all out of this haze of despair and into the light of the _New Ottoman Empire!_"

The city is silent for a moment more before they burst into applause, cheering and chanting "Turkey, Turkey!"

He gazes down at you, stretching out a hand for you to take. Gingerly, you climb up the pile of rubble to stand beside him, basking in the glow of his—

And then a blond, bespectacled man pops out of nowhere and tackles him to the ground, standing on his chest and shouting something about free health care and maple syrup.

The End.

* * *

**Author:** -_- CanaDERP. Are you ruining the Middle East's chances for peace _again_?

**CanaDERP:** BLAME RUSSIA! HE GAVE ME VODKAAAAAA!

**Russia:** *from outside* But Canadia, you did not even drink any of it!

**Author:** …

**CanaDERP:** HERP. *flees to the Middle East*

**Author:** …WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY.

**Russia:** *climbs in window and scoops up Author* You will become one with Mother Russia, da? 8D

**Author:** You know, I've always wondered something…why do you call yourself _Mother_ Russia when you're obviously a man?

**Russia:** *grin freezes* *realizes that Author is right* *drops Author and curls up on the fluffy pink rug to wallow in self-pity*

**Author:** *sighs and shoves him into the closet, locking the door* *runs off to Middle East to find CanaDERP before he destroys all chances for democracy*


	19. Chapter 19: Maple Syrup is Cool

**Ask CanaDERP!**

**Author:** *sitting on couch, watching TV* CanaDERP? Can you get me some more tea, please?

**CanaDERP:** *runs into living room with whistling kettle* HEEEERRRRRE YOU GOOOOOO!

**Author:** Oh, thanks. *drinks tea* So, have you checked our email lately?

**CanaDERP:** *pulls desktop computer out of back pocket and checks email* LOOK, LOOK, LOOK, A NEW QUESTION!

**Author:** Ah, another one from IceShadowCat! Here, let me read it.

**CanaDERP:** *runs away with computer* NOOOOO I WANNA READ IT! YOU ALWAYS *hic* GET TO REEEEEEEAD ITTTTT!

**Author:** That's because it's _my job!_ I read the questions and type up the transcripts, while you run around the house—run around the _world_, actually—as your drunk Canadian self. Now give me the computer.

**CanaDERP:** NUUUUUUUU! *locks self in closet and begins to read*

**Author:** *sighs* CanaDERP, if you're going to read the question, you have to do so out loud. *goes back to couch and sips tea*

**CanaDERP:** ICESHADOW *hic*CAT WANTS TO KNOW:

"_Hi again CanaDERP! _

_I was wondering what would happen of you, America, and Prussia had a maple syrup drinking contest! (By that I mean, how would you guys act afterwards)_

_P.S. If you had a pet rock what would you name it?"_

WHAT DO I DO NOW?

**Author:** You answer the question, idiot. I'd suggest answering the "P.S." first, so that you can do that…whatever it is you do. I mean, is it a flashback, or a look into the future, or _what?_

**CanaDERP:** *comes out of closet*

**Author:** But I already knew you were with Prussia…

**CanaDERP:** WUT.

**Author:** Never mind. Please, continue.

**CanaDERP**: *pulls rock out of shoe* THIS IS MY PET ROCK~! HIS NAME IS SQUIDGIE. *kisses Squidgie*

**Author:** M'kay. That's cool. Where'd you get Squidgie, and why'd you name him—her—_it_—that?

**CanaDERP:** I *hic* FOUND HIM ON THE BEACH ONE DAY, AND ALL THESE SEAGULLS WERE ATACKING HIM, SO I SICCED KIMAJURO ON THEM AND RESCUED HIM!

**Author:** …why were the seagulls attacking a rock…?

**CanaDERP:** Oh, back then he wasn't a rock.

**Author:** 8C

**CanaDERP:** 8D

Author: …Please do the flashback thingie now.

"Hey you guys! Let's go out tonight, to celebrate, huh?" Alfred throws his arms around his brother and his brother's boyfriend. "And, since it's Mattie's special day, he gets to pick!"

Matthew smiles, gently slipping out of his brother's embrace. "Thanks, Al," he says quietly. "But Gil and I…we kinda already had plans…" he blushes slightly and looks down, embarrassed.

Alfred groans. "You can't put off your _date_ to come hang out with your awesome brother? Come on, Mattie, pick a fun place!"

Grabbing his boyfriend's hand, Gilbert glares at Alfred. "You're not awesome! I'm the only awesome one here! Well, and _mein_ Birdie is almost awesome…"

Matthew snorts, then sighs. "_Fiiiiiine,_" he submits. "Let's go to the Maple Bear!" He takes the lead, tugging Gil along behind him, not waiting for his brother to catch up.

"Ugh, that weird Canadian bar filled with igloo-building, hockey-loving Canucks and maple-flavored beer? Why can't we go to Hamburger Street insteeeead?" Alfred whines, trailing along behind them.

"You did say I could pick!"

You look up from your boring magazine to see three very attractive young men approaching the counter. You set your smile to flirtatious and lean across the wood. "Hey there. What can I get for you three _fine_ gentlemen?"

One of the blonds—this one wears an antique bomber jacket—grins at you. "We'll take three Bud Lights," he says. You nod and move to get them their drinks, but the longer-haired blond stops you.

"Actually," he says, "Could you get us a few pitchers of maple syrup instead?"

You glance at him. Ah. He's one of _those_ guys. You smile, nod, and, a few seconds later, bring them the requested syrup, retreating a few feet to watch in silence.

The longer-haired blond (you've learned that his name is Matthew) hands Alfred and Gilbert each a glass of maple syrup.

"Vhat are we supposed to do with this, Mattie?" asks Gil, looking suspiciously at the dark amber syrup.

"Contest time. Whoever drinks the most maple syrup wins!"

Al and Gil groan, but they agree. Matthew looks to you. "Ma'am?" he asks with a sweet smile, "Would you mind keeping count for us? If it's not too much of a bother, I mean."

You smile and nod. It's a slow night, and you probably won't be getting many other customers, anyway.

Matthew downs his first glass of syrup almost before Al and Gil have started. You raise your eyebrows as you refill his glass. This guy's good…

An hour later, Gilbert and Alfred have finally finished their first glasses, with the help of quite a bit of beer, and Matthew is halfway through his ninth glass of the syrup. You look at him worriedly; you should probably refuse him anymore. He doesn't look too good—he looks completely smashed! On _maple syrup_. How does that even _work?_

"Um, I think you've won, mister," you say, taking the glass from him. You glance at his friends, who look at you in horror.

"You should really give him back the syrup, _frau_," says the albino man. "Trust the Awesome Me, you won't like it much if you don't. Kesesese~!"

You glance at Matthew and see murder in his eyes. "You better give me that back right now," he growls, and you feel your heart pound.

You give it back to him, and he downs it in a single gulp, smiling happily at you. Suddenly, he leans over and grabs Gilbert, pulling him into his arms and cradling him like a baby. "HUSH LITTLE GILLLBIRD, DON'T SAAAAY A WOOORRRRD~!" he croons, and Gil just laughs.

Alfred pulls out a harmonica suddenly and begins to play the theme music for Avatar: The Last Airbender, and you look on in confusion as Matthew pulls Gilbert to his feet, and the two begin to dance clumsily about the bar.

The music and the dance slowly morph into something completely different. "DUN DUN DUUUUN OOO WEE OOOOOOOO," goes the harmonica, and a blue telephone box appears in a corner of the room amidst _whirr_ing and grinding sounds. A tall brunette wearing a bowtie and a fez and a shorter blond wearing a green suit peek out of the box.

"Are you wankers coming or not?" asks the blond. "We haven't got all day you know! The Sun will explode in a matter of minutes if we don't go and fix it straight away!"

Matthew, Gilbert, and Alfred gasp collectively and pile into the telephone booth, though you have no idea how they can do so, seeing as how tiny the box is.

The tall brunette tips his fez to you and disappears into his phone booth. The _whirr_ing and grinding sound begins again, and you watch in shock as the blue box vanishes once more.

Nine minutes later, the Sun vanishes from the sky, but it appears again a few seconds later, so it's all good.

**Author:** WAIT YOU MET THE DOCTOR WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? *immense Doctor Who fangirl*

**CanaDERP:** IT DIDN'T.

**Author:** …so, it's not a flashback, it's a look into the future….?

**CanaDERP:** A POSSIBLE FUTURE!

**Author:** …take me with you?

**CanaDERP:** NERP. *takes Squidgie and derps away*

**Author:** *looks at clock* WHY IS IT ALMOST MIDNIGHT AND HOW CAN A HARMONICA PLAY THE DOCTOR WHO THEME MUSIC.


End file.
